Whom Do You Serve?
This week we look ahead to celebrating the traditions of Thanksgiving in ways that are likely to be untraditional. Our normal Interfaith Thanksgiving service, usually held in a church, temple, or synagogue on an evening when people of many faiths can gather, will instead be conducted this afternoon through a Zoom meeting. The large family gatherings that many of us look forward to are likely to be much smaller affairs, if they happen at all. While we’re all hopeful for the promise of multiple Covid vaccines in the works, we know these will still take months to produce and distribute, and so we have what looks to be a long winter ahead of us.
Yet, even as we see a valley of shadows before us, we know there is God’s light at the other side, and so in this season of Thanksgiving, we show our gratitude to God.
For the gift of life, we give God thanks.
For the gift of the food we eat, we give God thanks.
For the gift of the people in our lives, we give God thanks.
For us, in the context of this Sunday, this Christ the King Sunday, when we celebrate the kingship and authority of our only Lord, Jesus Christ, over us, that sentiment of gratitude takes on additional weight.
When we give our thanks to God, our King and Savior, we're not just being polite. We're not saying thanks because we were raised to be decent human beings.
We're saying that we owe everything we are and everything we have to him who made us.
You've heard me talk dozens of times before about the grace of God and the gratitude we owe him. And you're going to hear it again now. Because it can never be repeated enough. God has absolute authority over our lives. There's no way around it. God is God and we are not. If God had a heart to strike us down with lightning for every little infraction, or for no infraction at all, God could do that and we'd have no recourse. If God wanted to flood the land, rain fire from the heavens, and turn the air that we breathe into sulfur, God could do that, and we'd have no appeal.
We live entirely at God's mercy.
And so we are fortunate that mercy is at the core of God's own heart.
God has endless mercy on us. Mercy, not just in the sense that he lets our transgressions go, that he shows us lenience, but mercy in that God blesses us, even when we do not deserve it.
In many ways, we are God's spoiled brats.
Now, before you get offended, let me explain what I mean by that.
I have children. I spend time with them and with their friends. I spend time with my young nephews. I'm roughly at that age where most of my friends are actively reproducing. So I'm saying that I know some kids. Most of the ones I get to spend time with are pretty awesome. They're funny and silly and goofy and tell terrible jokes, and they're also earnest and honest and open and passionate about things. I love spending time with most kids because they haven't been jaded yet. They haven't learned sarcasm yet, or to treat everything ironically, or to condescend.
Most kids.
But I've also gotten to know my share of the kids who aren't so wonderful. I've met some who expect everything to be handed to them, long past the age of self-sufficiency. Who live in houses just bursting with toys, yet think nothing of throwing tantrums to get another one. Who've never been taught that they can't get everything they want. Have never been told no. And have never been told to say “please” or “thank you.”
I have to admit, I have a very specific couple of children in mind as I'm writing this, and no, I won't tell you who they are, but since none of them go to this church it doesn't matter anyway. If you really want to know, maybe you can wring it out of my wife – she knows who I'm talking about.
But my point in saying all of this is this. Far too often, we – collectively – as humanity – we've started acting like God's spoiled brats.
And this isn't to point the finger at any one person in particular, but to say that some of the good things that Christians used to be known for seem to have fallen out of fashion, and been replaced by some very bad habits.
We live under a new covenant with God. With the coming of Jesus Christ, with his death for us and for our sins, we are no longer under the old covenant of law, but a new covenant of grace.
We owe that new covenant to no one but God. It wasn't happenstance. We didn't negotiate it. We certainly didn't earn it. We live under grace because our God is a benevolent ruler. A merciful sovereign. A king who loves each and every one of us.
And too often, our response as a global community of Christians, isn't to express gratitude to God. But to act as though we've pulled a fast one, and gotten away with something.
I look around the state of western Christianity today, and it seems to be in chaos. There are a great many good churches out there, good congregations doing their best to do the work of the Lord.
And then there are a good number of churches out there simply telling people what they want to hear. Who seem to be in the business, not of serving the Lord, but of making people feel good about themselves.
Now, we should feel good about ourselves – the point of the Gospel isn't to make people feel crummy. Quite the opposite. But if we consider our scripture lesson this morning, there's work to be done.
Consider the words of our scripture reading this morning.
“Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food? Or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger, and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison, and we visited you?
And the king will answer them, 'truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.'”
The faithful who hear these words are given the promise of blessings from the Father. That they will inherit the kingdom prepared for them from the foundation of the world.
We have that promise. And I can look around and see great things happening in the name of Christ's ministry. We collect and we donate food and gifts for the hungry and the needy. Many churches do. I know of churches with thriving prison ministries, offering hope to the incarcerated, and support and care for their loved ones waiting at home. We've all been part of clothing drives and coat drives and contributed from our own closets and possessions to help clothe the less fortunate, and help people keep warm through the winter. Our own congregation is in the process of starting a new ministry of outreach and mission to a community in Pennsylvania where the jobs have dried up, the economy is hurting, and the people there are in need. We’re a small church, but we look out for our own, we tend to people in our own community, and we reach out, and make a difference where we can.
And yet as much as we do and as much as we give, there's always something more to be done. There's always another mouth to feed. Another child shivering. Another prisoner whose life is wasting away in hopelessness.
And it feels sometimes like the Greek tragedy of Sisyphus – the mythological man who was condemned in Hades to roll a heavy stone up a steep hill, only to have it roll down again just as he reached the top. That no matter what we do, no matter who we reach, no matter how many people we help, that there’s always more to be done. And there is. There’s no shortage of need in the world. We know that.
So we understand the work that's involved. Because we've been doing it over and over and over again. That the work isn't how we earn our place in God's kingdom, but an expression of gratitude for the place already given us.
Which makes me wonder, about people who lead lives of faith. Who say they are servants of God, yet who seem to work only for themselves. There's a strain of thought in many churches that would close their doors to the stranger. Not just close it, but lock it, bolt it, and call the police.
That instead of visiting and offering hope to the prisoner, would wish them to rot all the longer.
That hoards possessions for themselves.
When I see pastors – servants of God – arguing that they need church funds to buy themselves private planes and fancy cars – it makes me angry. I'm not envious of what they have, or want it for myself. It makes me angry that they preach the kingdom of heaven as they reap the kingdom of earth for themselves. And it makes me sad to see so many, so many people, put their faith and the money, in such promises.
We serve but one true king, and one true kingdom. And we have the promise of blessing beyond any earthly riches, any fancy possessions, any extravagance to be found here in the City of Man.
We know our reward is not to be found on earth, but in the comforts and the loving closeness that will come when we are with God our Father.
This morning is Christ the King Sunday. When we worship and proclaim Christ's lordship over us. When we express our gratitude and give our thanks to God for the blessings in our lives, and the promises of more to come, that we cannot have possibly earned on our own. When we kneel in submission and say, “God, without you, we are nothing.”
And in that admission, there is the recognition that there is work for us to do. To care for all of God's creation, especially our brothers and sisters made in God's image, who hunger, who thirst, who suffer in sickness, who languish in prison, or who simply need a welcoming hand.
That is our expression of gratitude. To say thank you, not just with our words, but with our actions, with our energy, with our treasure.
We can't just skip all that to get to the good stuff. The Christian life isn't supposed to be easy. It's full of love and support and relationships and deep emotional and spiritual rewards, in connections with our God and with each other. But those relationships, that love, those connections are forged in the fires of gratitude. Of showing God with our hands how much his kingdom means to us. That we're not just spoiled children looking for our next shiny new toy, but that we are subjects of a heavenly King, a benevolent King, understanding and the depth of God's grace, and being made worthy of the kingdom.
I have faith in this church. I have faith in this community. I know of the work that's been done through this congregation, and I've seen and been a part of the work that continues. So I have to say, I'm not worried about us.
But I pray. I pray often and sincerely for people who claim a life in Christ, yet live to serve only themselves. I pray for those people who expect everything to be handed to them, simply because they dare to invoke the name of our Lord. And I pray for myself. Because I believe that God has made me a person of faith and a servant of his kingdom. Yet I cannot help but to judge others, even as Christ has admonished me not to. I cannot see what is in the hearts of others. Perhaps there is some transcending goodness there, that I simply cannot see. Perhaps God is working a method through them that he is not working through me. Or perhaps we simply have people using the name of Christ for their own gain. I hope that is not the case, though I fear it may be.
For us. For our house. For this congregation, though. Let us serve the Lord. Honestly and diligently. Unafraid to get our hands dirty. To listen to the words of the Christ in the Gospel of Matthew. And to live our lives reverently, thankfully, and unspoiled. As best as we can. Amen.
Let us pray,
Most holy and gracious God, we offer you our thanks on this Sunday when we rejoice in your kingship over us, and when our spirits are filled with gratitude. Lord, we pray that you may always keep us humble, knowing that all work done for your kingdom is worthy and honorable. We ask that you temper our pride and our selfishness, that we never become spoiled, but may instead be your willing and joyful servants. We pray all of this in thanksgiving through the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.
This week we look ahead to celebrating the traditions of Thanksgiving in ways that are likely to be untraditional. Our normal Interfaith Thanksgiving service, usually held in a church, temple, or synagogue on an evening when people of many faiths can gather, will instead be conducted this afternoon through a Zoom meeting. The large family gatherings that many of us look forward to are likely to be much smaller affairs, if they happen at all. While we’re all hopeful for the promise of multiple Covid vaccines in the works, we know these will still take months to produce and distribute, and so we have what looks to be a long winter ahead of us.
Yet, even as we see a valley of shadows before us, we know there is God’s light at the other side, and so in this season of Thanksgiving, we show our gratitude to God.
For the gift of life, we give God thanks.
For the gift of the food we eat, we give God thanks.
For the gift of the people in our lives, we give God thanks.
For us, in the context of this Sunday, this Christ the King Sunday, when we celebrate the kingship and authority of our only Lord, Jesus Christ, over us, that sentiment of gratitude takes on additional weight.
When we give our thanks to God, our King and Savior, we're not just being polite. We're not saying thanks because we were raised to be decent human beings.
We're saying that we owe everything we are and everything we have to him who made us.
You've heard me talk dozens of times before about the grace of God and the gratitude we owe him. And you're going to hear it again now. Because it can never be repeated enough. God has absolute authority over our lives. There's no way around it. God is God and we are not. If God had a heart to strike us down with lightning for every little infraction, or for no infraction at all, God could do that and we'd have no recourse. If God wanted to flood the land, rain fire from the heavens, and turn the air that we breathe into sulfur, God could do that, and we'd have no appeal.
We live entirely at God's mercy.
And so we are fortunate that mercy is at the core of God's own heart.
God has endless mercy on us. Mercy, not just in the sense that he lets our transgressions go, that he shows us lenience, but mercy in that God blesses us, even when we do not deserve it.
In many ways, we are God's spoiled brats.
Now, before you get offended, let me explain what I mean by that.
I have children. I spend time with them and with their friends. I spend time with my young nephews. I'm roughly at that age where most of my friends are actively reproducing. So I'm saying that I know some kids. Most of the ones I get to spend time with are pretty awesome. They're funny and silly and goofy and tell terrible jokes, and they're also earnest and honest and open and passionate about things. I love spending time with most kids because they haven't been jaded yet. They haven't learned sarcasm yet, or to treat everything ironically, or to condescend.
Most kids.
But I've also gotten to know my share of the kids who aren't so wonderful. I've met some who expect everything to be handed to them, long past the age of self-sufficiency. Who live in houses just bursting with toys, yet think nothing of throwing tantrums to get another one. Who've never been taught that they can't get everything they want. Have never been told no. And have never been told to say “please” or “thank you.”
I have to admit, I have a very specific couple of children in mind as I'm writing this, and no, I won't tell you who they are, but since none of them go to this church it doesn't matter anyway. If you really want to know, maybe you can wring it out of my wife – she knows who I'm talking about.
But my point in saying all of this is this. Far too often, we – collectively – as humanity – we've started acting like God's spoiled brats.
And this isn't to point the finger at any one person in particular, but to say that some of the good things that Christians used to be known for seem to have fallen out of fashion, and been replaced by some very bad habits.
We live under a new covenant with God. With the coming of Jesus Christ, with his death for us and for our sins, we are no longer under the old covenant of law, but a new covenant of grace.
We owe that new covenant to no one but God. It wasn't happenstance. We didn't negotiate it. We certainly didn't earn it. We live under grace because our God is a benevolent ruler. A merciful sovereign. A king who loves each and every one of us.
And too often, our response as a global community of Christians, isn't to express gratitude to God. But to act as though we've pulled a fast one, and gotten away with something.
I look around the state of western Christianity today, and it seems to be in chaos. There are a great many good churches out there, good congregations doing their best to do the work of the Lord.
And then there are a good number of churches out there simply telling people what they want to hear. Who seem to be in the business, not of serving the Lord, but of making people feel good about themselves.
Now, we should feel good about ourselves – the point of the Gospel isn't to make people feel crummy. Quite the opposite. But if we consider our scripture lesson this morning, there's work to be done.
Consider the words of our scripture reading this morning.
“Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food? Or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger, and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison, and we visited you?
And the king will answer them, 'truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.'”
The faithful who hear these words are given the promise of blessings from the Father. That they will inherit the kingdom prepared for them from the foundation of the world.
We have that promise. And I can look around and see great things happening in the name of Christ's ministry. We collect and we donate food and gifts for the hungry and the needy. Many churches do. I know of churches with thriving prison ministries, offering hope to the incarcerated, and support and care for their loved ones waiting at home. We've all been part of clothing drives and coat drives and contributed from our own closets and possessions to help clothe the less fortunate, and help people keep warm through the winter. Our own congregation is in the process of starting a new ministry of outreach and mission to a community in Pennsylvania where the jobs have dried up, the economy is hurting, and the people there are in need. We’re a small church, but we look out for our own, we tend to people in our own community, and we reach out, and make a difference where we can.
And yet as much as we do and as much as we give, there's always something more to be done. There's always another mouth to feed. Another child shivering. Another prisoner whose life is wasting away in hopelessness.
And it feels sometimes like the Greek tragedy of Sisyphus – the mythological man who was condemned in Hades to roll a heavy stone up a steep hill, only to have it roll down again just as he reached the top. That no matter what we do, no matter who we reach, no matter how many people we help, that there’s always more to be done. And there is. There’s no shortage of need in the world. We know that.
So we understand the work that's involved. Because we've been doing it over and over and over again. That the work isn't how we earn our place in God's kingdom, but an expression of gratitude for the place already given us.
Which makes me wonder, about people who lead lives of faith. Who say they are servants of God, yet who seem to work only for themselves. There's a strain of thought in many churches that would close their doors to the stranger. Not just close it, but lock it, bolt it, and call the police.
That instead of visiting and offering hope to the prisoner, would wish them to rot all the longer.
That hoards possessions for themselves.
When I see pastors – servants of God – arguing that they need church funds to buy themselves private planes and fancy cars – it makes me angry. I'm not envious of what they have, or want it for myself. It makes me angry that they preach the kingdom of heaven as they reap the kingdom of earth for themselves. And it makes me sad to see so many, so many people, put their faith and the money, in such promises.
We serve but one true king, and one true kingdom. And we have the promise of blessing beyond any earthly riches, any fancy possessions, any extravagance to be found here in the City of Man.
We know our reward is not to be found on earth, but in the comforts and the loving closeness that will come when we are with God our Father.
This morning is Christ the King Sunday. When we worship and proclaim Christ's lordship over us. When we express our gratitude and give our thanks to God for the blessings in our lives, and the promises of more to come, that we cannot have possibly earned on our own. When we kneel in submission and say, “God, without you, we are nothing.”
And in that admission, there is the recognition that there is work for us to do. To care for all of God's creation, especially our brothers and sisters made in God's image, who hunger, who thirst, who suffer in sickness, who languish in prison, or who simply need a welcoming hand.
That is our expression of gratitude. To say thank you, not just with our words, but with our actions, with our energy, with our treasure.
We can't just skip all that to get to the good stuff. The Christian life isn't supposed to be easy. It's full of love and support and relationships and deep emotional and spiritual rewards, in connections with our God and with each other. But those relationships, that love, those connections are forged in the fires of gratitude. Of showing God with our hands how much his kingdom means to us. That we're not just spoiled children looking for our next shiny new toy, but that we are subjects of a heavenly King, a benevolent King, understanding and the depth of God's grace, and being made worthy of the kingdom.
I have faith in this church. I have faith in this community. I know of the work that's been done through this congregation, and I've seen and been a part of the work that continues. So I have to say, I'm not worried about us.
But I pray. I pray often and sincerely for people who claim a life in Christ, yet live to serve only themselves. I pray for those people who expect everything to be handed to them, simply because they dare to invoke the name of our Lord. And I pray for myself. Because I believe that God has made me a person of faith and a servant of his kingdom. Yet I cannot help but to judge others, even as Christ has admonished me not to. I cannot see what is in the hearts of others. Perhaps there is some transcending goodness there, that I simply cannot see. Perhaps God is working a method through them that he is not working through me. Or perhaps we simply have people using the name of Christ for their own gain. I hope that is not the case, though I fear it may be.
For us. For our house. For this congregation, though. Let us serve the Lord. Honestly and diligently. Unafraid to get our hands dirty. To listen to the words of the Christ in the Gospel of Matthew. And to live our lives reverently, thankfully, and unspoiled. As best as we can. Amen.
Let us pray,
Most holy and gracious God, we offer you our thanks on this Sunday when we rejoice in your kingship over us, and when our spirits are filled with gratitude. Lord, we pray that you may always keep us humble, knowing that all work done for your kingdom is worthy and honorable. We ask that you temper our pride and our selfishness, that we never become spoiled, but may instead be your willing and joyful servants. We pray all of this in thanksgiving through the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.
